Desperate Choices (2 page)

Theresa looked up into Max’s eyes for the first time since the vision ended and met his gray-eyed gaze.

“Max, whoever took Tommy wasn’t a stranger. It was somebody he knew.”

Tommy jerked awake, sucking huge gasps of air into his struggling lungs. His heart raced, the rapid beat pounded in his ears. Sweat covered his body.

Same stupid dream again.

He rose from his rumpled bed, his breathing finally slowing, and stretched his arms above his head. Reaching down, his hand scratched lightly at his bare stomach and he stifled a yawn. Taking that first step away from the bed, he paced the floor of his prison. Back and forth, he dragged the chain behind him as he walked. He walked as far as he was able, changed direction and returned back to where he’d started. Silver links tethered him within the room, making escape impossible.

He knew—because he’d tried everything.

When he’d first opened his eyes, his initial reaction was disbelief. Gray cinderblock walls hemmed in the cramped, boxy room. He’d been lying on the floor. He’d jumped up and banged on the door only to feel the heavy slap of the chain against his skin.

“Let me out,” he’d screamed at the top of his lungs. “You can’t keep me here.”

Nobody answered.

He was chained up like an animal. He had no idea where or why, but he sure as hell knew by whom.

He’d never told a soul, but his biggest nightmare had always been the fear of being trapped alone. Now it was his living reality.

He looked around the room, once again noting the lack of any windows. There were two doors in what he referred to as his “cage.” One led to the bathroom, the other led to freedom. One he had access to, the other was denied.

The room was obviously a converted garage with cement floors and cinderblock walls. In actuality it probably wasn’t a bad living space, might even be considered a studio apartment. There was a kitchenette complete with a refrigerator and sink. A single cabinet held a stash of snacks.

A miniscule bathroom occupied one corner. On the other side of the main room a mishmash of furnishings, an overstuffed chair, a rickety end table and a state-of-the-art television. There was even a DVD player with an assortment of DVDs.

Against the far wall stood a single brass bed. The headboard and footboard were heavily bolted to the floor. The manacle encircling his right ankle was fastened to one leg of the footboard.

He’d checked out every square inch of his confined space. There was nothing he could use as a weapon or to free himself. His kidnapper provided meals twice a day, brought in on a wicker tray with paper plates and flimsy plastic utensils.

Tommy mulled as he paced. He remembered his Suzuki having a flat tire on the way home. After a really crappy day, he’d been pissed off because something so stupid would get him into even more trouble with his parents.

He remembered being scared spitless when the van pulled to a stop. Thoughts raced through his mind as he imagined the worst possible things that could happen. Child pornography. White slavery. Torture. Rape. Even death. Still, he’d put on a brave face.
Never let ’em see you sweat.
When he saw who got out of the van, his relief was almost palpable.
Thank God.

They had chatted on the drive back toward New Orleans, heat blasting from the van’s blowers. He felt comforted something had gone right for the first time that day. When they
passed the first gas station with a mechanic still on duty, he looked at Steven. Before he could ask, Steven said he had one stop to make first. He knew a good mechanic who could fix the tire and wouldn’t charge him. They needed to go to his house to get his phone number. He asked if Tommy minded stopping for a minute. Free repairs? Who’d turn that down?

When they got to the house, Steven invited him in for something to drink. The next thing he remembered, he’d awoken in this room, chained up like a vicious junkyard dog.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. I have to be the biggest idiot in the world.

Everybody in and around New Orleans knew Steven Black. He was a general handyman and contractor. He even did the weekly maintenance on his parents’ lawn. He’d never thought Steven would be capable of something this heinous.

Once more, Tommy pulled on the footboard, attempting to loosen the chain, the same futile effort he made hundreds of times daily. Even after almost a week, there was no give.

A sudden noise alerted Tommy he was no longer alone. His body tensed. He knew who it was. The key clicked in the lock. The door opened slowly.

Tommy watched in silence as Steven stepped across the threshold, a heavy burden in his arms wrapped securely within a blanket. Steven walked toward the brass bed and gently laid his bundle down. With infinite care, he unfurled the blanket. A head and shoulders appeared, followed by a faint groan.

Tommy’s world seemed to freeze in stunned disbelief, his breath stuttering in his chest. Time seemed to slow to a crawl.
Dear God above,
he thought, his stare riveted to the now-occupied bed.
He’s kidnapped somebody else.

Theresa glanced across the dinner table at Remy. He’d called earlier to find out how things had gone with his brother. More than that, though, she knew he was checking on her. Remy knew how emotionally and physically drained she became after a reading. Exhausted, she could barely function when she finished. Even now, several hours afterward, a bone-weary tiredness had set in. Still, for her best friend, she gave the illusion of coping.

Remy’s faith and unshakable trust in her abilities almost convinced her she could help Max’s case. He’d witnessed her gift many times over the years. He didn’t have the same unsubstantiated disbelief Max did.

“Hey, sweetie. Spill it. What did you ‘see’?” Remy smiled, his play on words filled with wry humor. He teased her openly about her gift. Most people were too uncomfortable around her, especially when they wanted her help.

“Not nearly enough.” Theresa looked at Remy, marveling at their friendship. For more than ten years they had remained close. The bond between them surpassed any lack of a DNA connection. They were a living example of enduring friendship, triumphant over all odds.

She smiled at the waiter as he placed her meal in front of her. Raising her water glass, she took a sip. She inhaled the fragrance of the seafood platter, glad Remy insisted she come to dinner.

Her eyes met Remy’s and she gave him a wink.

“Max and I went to the spot where Tommy supposedly disappeared. I don’t think I was much help, though. I sensed it was the last place he’d been. There wasn’t any malevolence or evil there, Remy. Whatever happened didn’t feel planned.”

Theresa knew she could talk freely with Remy about the case. Besides being Max’s brother and her best friend, he was also a detective with the New Orleans Police Department, working Vice.

The candlelight flickered softly, accentuating Remy’s rugged appeal. His dark hair, nearly black, was brushed back from a sculptured, masculine face. Extremely long black lashes outlined his piercing amber eyes. Though they should have been feminine in appearance, on him they were anything but girlish. His nose was a touch sharp but lent character to his face.

His physical beauty was not what attracted her to him. His sharply cut physique wasn’t the answer, either. His appeal had always been what was inside. His kindness. His spirit. His joy in life. But mostly his unconditional love for her.

Theresa shook her head, scattering thoughts about Remy’s physical appearance, and refocused on the subject at hand. As attractive as Remy was, she had never been interested in him except as a friend. For her, it was always Max.

She drew up when she realized she was comparing Remy to Max.
Stop thinking about Max. It’s never going to happen.

Remy snapped his fingers in front of her face. “Earth to Theresa. Anybody home?”

Startled, she blinked, realizing her thoughts had taken her far away from the present. The corners of her mouth quirked upwards. “Sorry, Remy. Lost in my thoughts again.”

A familiar tingle flittered along Theresa’s spine and probed at her psychic shields. Somebody watched her. She could feel his eyes. Her gaze traveled to the entrance of the restaurant. She cursed under her breath as she met Max’s intent stare. His purposeful strides ate up the distance to their table.

Max reached out and clamped his hand on Remy’s shoulder. “I called the house and
Maman
said I’d probably find you here. She said you were taking Theresa out for dinner.”

Though he spoke to Remy, he stared intently at Theresa. His eyes perused her appearance in minute detail. Theresa’s spine stiffened as she braced for Max’s next words.

“What’s up, bro?” Remy looked up at Max, concern written on his face.

“Actually I was looking for Theresa. I wanted to run something by her before I approached Tommy’s parents.”

“What?” Theresa asked.

“I want to take you to Tommy’s house in the morning. Maybe being around so many of his personal things…it might give you additional material to work with. You know, get some ‘vibes’ from some of his stuff. Talk with his parents.”

Max hesitated. “I haven’t told his parents I’ve consulted a psychic. I wanted to check with you before I said anything.”

“Why? Are you ashamed of me?” Theresa couldn’t quite keep the piqued tone out of her voice. “I don’t go around advertising the fact I’m psychic, but I don’t hide it either. It’s fine to tell them.”

Max rocked back on his heels, one hand shoved into his pants pocket. “Fine. I’ll pick you up about eight.”

“Fine.”

An awkward silence enveloped their table. Moments ticked by.

Theresa decided she needed to leave. She had spent enough time around Max today fighting his skepticism—and her overwhelming attraction to him. Their time apart hadn’t dimmed her body’s response to his. Distance was her answer.

She retrieved her purse from underneath her chair. “Remy, I’m going to call it a night, if you don’t mind. I’ve got a bit of a headache, and I’m really not very hungry. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

Remy stood and pulled out her chair while motioning for the waiter to bring the check.

“No, Remy. Please stay and have dessert. Talk with Max. I’m going to walk home. It’s just a couple of blocks, and the fresh air will clear my head.”

Leaning in, she brushed a kiss against Remy’s cheek, and then looked at Max. His icy stare met hers. There was something there, something she couldn’t read. His shields slammed into place, tighter than ever.

“Goodnight, Max. I’ll see you in the morning.” Her skirt rustled, the hem swirling around her legs as she walked toward the door and out into the night.

***

“Well, crap. Talk about ruining a perfectly good dinner. Couldn’t you have called her at home and left a message?” Remy slouched back in his chair, his fork pushing around the food on his barely touched plate. “You might as well join me. Misery loves company.”

Remy again motioned for the waiter, who hurried over with his check. “Never mind, my brother’s going to join me. What’ll you have, Maxey?” Max winced at his brother’s use of a name he hadn’t answered to in years. He’d always hated his childhood nickname.

Max ordered a steak, baked potato and a cold beer before lounging back in the chair Theresa had vacated.

“Damn it, Remy, I didn’t mean to run her off. I guess I wasn’t thinking, period. This case has me going round in circles, chasing my tail. I can’t catch a break. I’m so worried about Tommy, it’s eating me up. There are so many rotten bastards out there. Anybody could have snatched him.”

“I was asking Theresa how things went today when you interrupted. Was she any help?”

“Yes and no. I didn’t give her much info. We drove to the exact spot where the police found his phone. It was like she watched it happen. She stood so still, barely moving.”

Max knew he could tell his brother everything. That wasn’t what was bothering him. It was his own reaction when Theresa nearly stopped breathing. The sheer panic he’d felt, like a vise grip on his lungs squeezing tighter and tighter. He ran his hand across his chest now, remembering the sensation.

“I canvassed the scene while she talked, listening but not wholly concentrated on her. She paused for a minute. I didn’t think anything of it. Until I looked at her.” Reaching for the cold beer the waiter just delivered, he took a deep swallow. “Damn, Remy. It was like she stopped breathing. Not much scares me these days, but I’m telling you watching her like that, it scared the hell out of me.”

Remy nodded at Max’s words, his look compassionate. “Man, I’m sorry. It’s rare for it to happen like that. I saw it once before, and it frightened the crap out of me, too.”

“Is it normal?” Max asked. “You know her better than I do. Should I be worried about her working this case?”

“You’d have to ask her. I haven’t let Theresa work on any more of my cases. Once was more than enough.”

“Whoa, hold it.
You
told me to go to her. You’re the one who convinced me she’d be able to help find Tommy.”

“And I’m still convinced she can. Just because I won’t allow her to work on my cases, doesn’t mean she wouldn’t be of benefit to you. Remember, I’m in Vice now, but back then, I worked Homicide. Way, way too traumatic for her.”

Max grimaced, frowning slightly when Remy mentioned the Homicide Department. He’d worked Shreveport Homicide for several years before leaving under less than auspicious circumstances. It was still a raw area for him.

“I’ve seen what Theresa can do, Max. She’s not always comfortable with her abilities, but when the situation warrants it, she does what’s necessary to help others. She’s a strong woman, but sometimes it overwhelms her.”

“I’m worried enough about finding Tommy right now. I can’t afford to worry about her, too. Another episode like today, and that’s it.” Max pushed his half-finished plate away and stood.

“Keep an eye on her, Remy.” He hesitated as if he wanted to say more, then shook his head.

“G’night, bro.”